


A New Role

by Melodious329



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at Xmen_firstkink:  "Alex gets hurt during a battle, but hides it. It's just a silly sprain or cut, no need to burden himself on the others. And there were mutants who needed the medical attention more than him, it wasn't like it was serious or needed to be taken care of. He could do it himself, he had been taking care of himself for years.<br/>However, the injury turns out to be worse than he thought it would be, but it's been days since it happened, and he didn't want anyone to make a fuss or get angry at him for taking up their time.<br/>So the wound/injury festers until he seriously needs medical help.<br/>Hank finds out and takes care of him and tells him that he doesn't need to hide his injuries or that he can go to others for help instead of doing things alone.<br/>Just need some angsty/hurt alex and worried Hank."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Role

The man came out of nowhere. Bullets were flying. Beast was roaring. Smoke filled the air and flames licked the tree branches. Alex didn’t even feel the bullet hit him, only heard the sound it made.

Then suddenly Sean is screaming, not his ear-splitting scream, but the scream of a young kid in pain. Alex whips around, immediately dropping to his knees at Sean’s side. It’s his leg, Sean’s been shot in the leg and Alex still can’t feel any pain.

Beast pushes him away, taking over putting pressure on the kid’s leg. Alex looks blankly up at Sean’s pale face, freckles disappearing in his white skin. Rage just fills Alex up, igniting like a match touching dry brush.

Roaring like a beast himself, Alex stands up, his white-hot rage pours out of him through the plate on his chest at the men now retreating from them. All of the trees are now burning, a wall of fire in front of him, branches cracking and falling to the ground.

Only then as he stands there panting does he realize Beast is yelling at him. Coming back to his senses, Alex rushes over to help carry Sean to the jet. The ride back to the mansion is simply a blur. Beast has wrapped Sean’s leg, but there’s still pain all over the kid’s face and there’s blood all over Alex and he isn’t sure whose blood it is. His left side has started to hurt, a razor sharp pain when he breathes, like being burned, like being stabbed and Alex doesn’t want to think a lot about how he knows that feeling.

Charles is waiting for them at the house, his wheelchair filling the doorway as they approach. He wheels himself out of the way as Beast approaches first, carrying Sean.

“You’re safe here,” Charles comforts Sean. “Make sure that you take care of yourself too,” Charles yells after at Beast who’s hurrying by toward the lab. Charles can’t easily follow now in his wheelchair.

“Clean yourself up,” Charles tells Alex as he comes in.

It stings like a slap in the face and Alex almost stumbles. But instead, he puts his head down and races to his room. No comfort for him. He tells himself he should be used to it. He’s left to clean up his own wound, deal with his own pain just like every other time.

Alone in his bathroom, he rips the hole in his suit open larger to get a look at the wound. That’s when he realizes that the bullet must have gone straight through his left side to hit Sean, like he didn’t even matter. He’s just fortunate that the wound is so far to the side that it didn’t hit anything necessary. He’s not sure what would have happened if he had really been injured in addition to Sean.

Stripping off the top half of his suit, Alex cleans the wound with tap water. Alex pulls out the gauze out of the cabinet behind the mirror. Pressing a gauze pad to the wound brings tears to Alex’s eyes. He tapes a pad on both sides before grabbing a roll of gauze to wrap around himself. But the bandages are full of blood before he can even wrap it, dripping down his abdomen.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub, he uses a tshirt he left on the floor in an attempt to slow the bleeding. There’s just so much blood from what seems like such a small wound. He can’t help but think it’d be easier with Beast’s help, huge hands still always focused and careful. But Sean’s still a kid and needs the help more. Alex leans his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall. He doesn’t want any of them to see him helpless.

Alex is practically asleep by dinnertime. He’s managed to wrap the gauze around his torso, but then getting his left arm into a clean shirt seems impossible with the wound still burning. He has to drag himself to the kitchen table, but they’re all tired and stiff after a mission so he doesn’t expect anyone to notice. Charles notices when Sean has a strained muscle and when Beast’s feelings are hurt, but he doesn’t notice that Alex has a bullet wound.

And why should he? Alex has been left behind by every person he’s ever known. Why would things be different here? No one even likes him. He’s angry and dangerous and mean. Why would they care when even his own brother left him when he was injured and in the hospital?

The dinner is quiet. Charles is too busy feeling guilty that he can’t go with them on these missions. Beast is too busy feel guilty for giving himself a dangerous and obvious mutation. Sean is unusually quiet with pain and fear. And when Charles asks him to wash Sean’s plate as well, Alex doesn’t complain. This is as good as things have been for him. Charles would care, if Alex told him, Charles would care, but he didn’t notice.

It’s not til the next morning that Alex brings his ripped and ruined uniform to Beast’s lab. Since Beast’s transformation and Mystique’s absence, Alex likes to hang out in the lab. Beast often talks to him about his research, talks to him like he’s a real person and not an idiot, not just a dangerous screw-up. He likes Beast’s new self-confidence. And though, he’d never say it, no matter how angry he is, he likes that Beast can’t hide any more. He likes that he’s not the only dangerous mutant.

“What happened to your uniform?” Beast whines. “Do you know how long it takes to make one of these?” Beast asks, self-righteously. “I know you didn’t rip it on a tree branch like last time.”

Alex hates being treated like a child, like an idiot. And the whining reminds him of when Hank’s worst problem was that he had big feet. Like that’s as horrible a mutation as killing people you’re trying to protect. Alex just leaves before he says anything that he regrets, before he lashes out again. It’s better that he stays away, he tells himself. Better because now Beast won’t realize he’s hurt. He doesn’t want anyone’s pity. And Beast never mentions their separation. That maybe hurts as much as the wound. He thought maybe…maybe Beast cared, but that’s stupid.

Alex gives up most physical activity or practice. No one cares. Charles never comes out to supervise them, spending his time supervising in the lab. Beast exercises alone, because he’s ashamed of his strength and speed. Of course, Sean isn’t exercising either, spending his time on the couch. Sean is supposed to reading textbooks, but the kid is just going stircrazy. After a few days, Alex is too tired to deal with him and his constant need for attention.

The pain gets worse with time not better. By the end of the week, he’s spending most of his time in bed. Even walking to dinner makes him break out in sweat. He’s been keeping the wound covered, even showering with cellophane wrapped around his torso. When he finally attempts to peel back the gauze to check, the pain sends him falling back into the bathroom wall. His head is swimming and he slowly slides down the wall as his legs give out on him.

Breathing hard, Alex doesn’t know what to do. He’s too ashamed now to speak up. He doesn’t want everyone to know that his feelings were hurt just because they didn’t notice. Surely it will get better, he tells himself. Things often get worse before they get better. After catching his breath, he stands up, leaning heavily on the sink as he opens the mirror to grab the peroxide bottle. Crawling into the tub, he just pours the bottle on top of the gauze, hoping that some will get through to the wound. He doesn’t know what happens next as he passes out.

The next morning, he wakes up still in the tub, sore and feverish. He means to wrap another strip of gauze over the now dirty one, but he can’t move much without horrible pain. Getting a shirt on is also impossible.

He manages to pull himself up with his right arm so he can walk stooped over. He just wants to make it to his bed when there’s a knock at his door.

“What?” he tries to call out.

The door opens, Beast’s huge blue frame taking up the entire door frame.

“I didn’t say come in,” Alex growls.

Beast ignores his words, instead moving in with his hand extended as if to touch Alex’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?” Beast asks.

“I shoot lasers out of my chest,” Alex snaps, trying to flinch away. “It happens.”

“Really?” Beast says, intrigued like with that statement Alex has transformed from a person into a lab rat. “You’ve never mentioned frequent fevers…”

Suddenly, Alex feels his muscles locking, his body going stiff, out of his control. He knows he’s falling but the black is coming faster than the ground.  
***************************************

Hank watches as Alex falls to the ground, too surprised to do anything about it. Then Alex starts to convulse, pale white limbs flailing hard against the dark carpeting. Hank hops into motion then, grabbing for Alex’s head on impulse. As soon as he touches Alex’s skin, he feels the heat like a furnace. Alex is burning up.

But the only thing he can do is hold on until the convulsions stop and Alex is lying there limp, his eyelashes fluttering and wet. Then Hank immediately pulls Alex off the ground and into his arms. He turns around to suddenly see a panting Charles wheeling up behind him.

“Hank?” Charles asks. “I heard you…”

“His fever…he needs a cool bath now,” Hank explains briefly before taking off for his lab.

He lays Alex down on the same table Sean was sitting on a week ago, now covered with clean white sheets. Running into the bathroom, he turns on the tap before going back to his patient.

Alex still seems delirious, eyes only open to slits, body moving in restless pain. Hank’s eyes search down the other mutant’s body. Alex is only wearing his boxer shorts and Hank is surprised to see the dirty band of gauze. A foul odor becomes apparent to his very sensitive nose as he bends closer, starts to unwrap it. Underneath the wrapping are two darkened gauze patches, back and front on Alex’s left side. Peeling an edge back, the stench assaults him. There’s a wound underneath, black as rot, circular like a bullet hole.

This time, Hank hears Charles’ wheelchair enter the room behind him, followed by Sean’s crutches.

“It’s blood poisoning,” Hank grits out without waiting to be asked.

He’s pissed, his newfound anger flaring up again. He still doesn’t look at the other two mutants as he carries Alex into the bathroom, lowering the feverish mutant into the water only in his boxers. Alex starts fighting as soon as his skin touches the water, his uselessly weak limbs thrashing as he pants.

“There’s a bullet wound,” Hank continues explaining knowing that the others are still in the room.

“What?” Sean asks in confusion. “When did he get hit?”

Hank growls, scaring Sean practically off his crutches without meaning to. He yanks an IV kit out of the cupboard. “Stupid! He’d rather die than ask for my help, not from me the stupid, huge Beast.”

Hank is still complaining as he pulls one white arm from the bathtub to start IV antibiotics.

“I’m not sure that’s the whole reason,” Charles murmurs. “I wonder if my promise not to delve deeper into your minds is really the best for all of you.”

Hank turns to glare at him but Charles doesn’t meet his eyes, obviously thinking through it himself. Hank’s too angry, hurt and worried to worry about Alex’s motivations.

Turning back, Hank watches Alex in the tub, water gently lapping at pebbled skin. The aptly named Havok doesn’t look big and tough now, his often sharp tongue now silenced. He looks small and frail, sweat still beading on his upper lip, a crease of pain still in his forehead.

Hank pulls over a stool to wait. After a time, Charles and Sean leave the room quietly. But Hank sits there for a full thirty minutes before draining the water. Then he lifts Alex out, his own fur dripping as he struggles to wrap a towel around the smaller body. He puts Alex back on the bed, trying to dry them both off but Alex is getting more and more agitated, trying to wake up, fingers tangling in his fur again. Hank doesn’t notice until he tries to move away and the other mutant doesn’t let go.

Suddenly Alex’s blue eyes are open wide, fever bright. His fingers are like claws as they sink past the fur into Hank’s skin.

“Don’t,” Alex croaks, a word Hank thought he’d never hear but Alex seems so broken. “Please, don’t…don’t leave me.”

Hank is confused. It takes a moment to realize that Alex isn’t really seeing him. Alex is delirious, and Hank doesn’t know how to respond. “I’m going to help you, I have to get…”

“Please, no…” Alex pleads in a way Hank wouldn’t have thought possible of the other mutant. “Help. Don’t….”

Hank is stunned into immobility for a moment. He never imagined the pain that’s now written over the other mutant, but Hank understands it. He doesn’t want to hurt Alex further, but he knows Alex’s situation is becoming increasingly dire. He needs those supplies so he gently pries Alex’s fingers from his fur, the pleading cries becoming increasingly agonized.

He hurries back into the bathroom, knocking things over as he grabs the peroxide and bandages from the cupboard over the sink. But by the time he’s got what he needs, the sounds from the other room have stopped. He sees Alex is now curled up on his left side in a fetal position, protecting the wound.

Hank tries to restrain his strength and gently turn the tight form over.

“No!” Alex suddenly cries out, his elbow catching Hank hard in the face. “It hurts! Stop.”

Holding his injured nose in one hand, Hank tries to use his other hand to block Alex’s constant, aimless blows. Alex is using up what little strength he has and Hank watches the IV line, afraid that he’ll pull that out on top of everything.

“Get away!” Alex yells as Hank finally concedes defeat and backs away from the table.

It’s like Alex thinks he’s being hurt on purpose. The only thing that Hank can think to do is put the havoc-causing mutant to sleep and for that he needs Charles. He heads back out of the room, this time heading down the corridor, trying to call out in his mind. But Charles meets him before he’s gone very far. Hank is embarrassed that he’s seemingly broadcasting own emotions.

When Alex is asleep, Hank methodically goes about cleaning the wound. He never thought he’d one day be caring for injured persons. He likes the safety of the lab, the clarity of a petri dish rather than the shivering skin of a person in pain. This is too much, too much responsibility, too many emotions.

Belatedly, he realizes Charles is still in the room.

“I should have noticed,” Charles says softly.

It takes Hank’s brain a minute to figure out what the professor is talking about. “No, he should have told us. How could we have known?” he asks frowning.

“You also did not ask for my advice,” Charles replies with a small smile to lessen the blow. “You all arrived here injured, and so will every child after. You each need to know someone cares.”

“He knows we care,” Hank states cautiously. He and Alex have certainly not always gotten along. But he keeps Havoc as safe as possible in battle. Besides Hank doesn’t feel like Alex cares.

Though, Alex has been more supportive since Hank’s transformation. The ‘Beast’ nickname gets on his nerves but he’s pretty sure Alex considers it a compliment. They don’t seem to speak the same language. Sometimes Alex will get upset and leave when Hank says something harmless. On the other hand, Alex will also strike back with mean words when he’s angry…or hurt, Hank thinks, remembering how Alex acted when first cleaning the wound.

He doesn’t hear Charles leave this time as he sits beside Alex’s sickbed deep in thought. He stirs again when Alex begins to shift in his sleep uncomfortably. Hank can see sweat breaking out on the pale brow and pale cheeks becoming ruddier. He practically holds his breath, wishing for the other mutant to stay asleep as long as possible.

Eventually though, Alex’s long eyelashes are fluttering as he gets closer and closer to consciousness, pained sounds already leaving dry plump lips. This time, though, blue eyes are clearer when they open, just clouded with pain.

Alex immediately tries to sit up, biting his lip to prevent the strangled groan from escaping as his muscles strain. Hank watches angrily, wondering why Alex insists on hurting himself like this again.

Finally Alex croaks, “Water.”

Hank scurries into the bathroom now that he has been given a purpose, but when he returns, Alex reaches for the glass himself. Frustrated, Hank hands it over even though Alex spills half of it down his chest as he’s too weak to really drink it.

“I need to take your temperature,” Hank says, grabbing the thermometer off the bedside table.

Alex shifts away from him, saying, “No, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Hank snaps, forgetting how intimidating he can be now. But Alex has never seemed frightened of his mutation. “You’re burning up and it caused you to have a seizure.”

Even as he’s talking, Alex is starting to writhe, not being able to hold still in his pain but his wound restricts his movements. “And you’re about to have another one,” Hank finishes.

“No,” Alex barks, trying again to move away from Hank’s searching hand, but the word comes out with more of the earlier pleading.

“Alex,” Hank says firmly, finally gaining the other man’s attention with his command. “I need to put you in a cool bath.”

Explaining the situation to Alex as an adult instead of being treated as a child calms the injured mutant, allowing Hank to slide his arms underneath, cradling the small hot body to his chest. But Hank knows that Alex is not going to like being in the bath.

Being careful of the IV, he rolls the IV stand into the bathroom with them. Alex’s long fingers slide through the blur fur, clinging to him. They don’t let go as Hank leans over to put him in the bath. In fact, Alex shivers and curls closer to Hank’s large furry body.

There’s nothing for it so Hank doesn’t draw it out, but lowers Alex into the water, his thin body writhing instinctually to try to get away from the pain.

“Noooooo,” he cries through gritted teeth, but Hank holds him firmly, his new strength and willpower useful now.

Alex is still shaking, but he seems to force himself to let go of Hank. This weak noise seems to just come out of him but he curls his arms into his body, regardless of the IV as if to prevent himself from reaching out for help. Hank hates to watch the other mutant in pain and he knows Alex wouldn’t want to be watched.

But Hank can’t seem to just leave the bathroom and let the other mutant suffer alone. He places his large warm hands on Alex’s red flushed cheeks, getting the attention of the clouded blue eyes.

“Hey, it’s just for a little while. It’ll be over in a minute, ok?” Hank tries to soothe.

But Alex looks at him like he does right before something mean comes out of his mouth, despite the way he’s shivering. But Alex only grits out, “W-why’re you…doin’ this?”

Hank frowns, confused and hurt at being accused of hurting Alex on purpose. He’s just doing his best to help. But as he looks into Alex’s pained blue eyes, he realizes Alex isn’t accusing him. Alex is truly amazed at Hank being here with him.

Suddenly relaxed, Hank settles in to comfort the injured teammate. “I’m here. It’ll be over soon,” he continues to murmur reassurances.

He doesn’t know what to say, just wants to give Alex something else to focus on besides being cold and sick. And amazingly it seems to work. Alex stares at him, breathing hard through parted lips, but he seems to relax a fraction, his body still stiff in the water.

Hank tries to think of other things to talk about, other things besides why Alex didn’t tell anyone about the injury. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with accusations, not now.

“The bullet doesn’t seem to have hit any organs, just passed through. But bacteria got into the wound and then into your blood stream. Your fever continued to rise until you had a seizure. The bath is to prevent your temperature from getting that high again, while the antibiotics take effect,” Hank intones, laying out the bare basics of what has happened without judgment as hard as it is for him.

Alex suddenly shivers hard, splashing the water in the tub and then Alex’s very white hand emerges from the water to grab at Hank’s own furry wrist, holding on tight. Hank almost wants to smile except that Alex is still not out of the woods.

“You’re going to be fine,” Hank mumbles out instead, still feeling thrown by Alex actually reaching out to him. “It’s just a few more minutes in the water and then you can go back to sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

It’s not entirely a lie and Alex nods as much as he can with Hank’s huge paws on his face. It’s worth it. It’s a strange feeling. No one has ever needed Hank before, no one has ever looked to him for comfort and help. He knows that he’s been helping here, but it’s different making jets and other scientific research. No one has needed him for _him_ , for something more than his brain or his talent or his mutation. He likes it, likes feeling needed, feeling special.

Finally the thirty minutes are up and Hank stands up some. Alex reaches for him, which does make Hank smile. Not only is Alex conscious enough to help, but he is participating in his own recovery, allowing Hank to help him. It’s enough to make him smile though he hopes the other mutant doesn’t see.

He pulls Alex’s shivering body close to his own larger and warmer body and Alex responds, clinging close to him. Alex doesn’t shy away from the horror that he’s become. He almost doesn’t want to put the other mutant down but it’s a short walk back to the medical bed and towels.

This time Alex is awake enough that Hank is obliged to hand him a towel. He uses another to dry Alex’s legs, before getting out a pair of his old pajama pants. He blushes, ducking his head as he turns away giving the other some privacy. His imagination runs overtime as he is still in hearing range.

When Alex says he’s done, Hank wonders what color his face blushes now. But he has no choice but to turn around. He keeps his face averted as he pulls away the wet sheets and pulls covers over the sick mutant. By the time he feels ready to look up, Alex is relaxed, his eyelids already drooping.

Instinctively, Hank sits in the chair near the bed, wanting to be near Alex. He knows that the fever could come back any time and wants to watch over Alex. He wants to just be there, to be the person who comforts, who cares.

Alex turns over on his side, towards Hank who moves the IV line out of the sleepy mutant’s way. Perhaps his hand lingered, and then Alex grabs his still damp paw. Gripping it, Alex drops off to sleep.

Hank supposes that this is what Charles meant by caring for each other, not just helping each other. But as Hank sits there with Alex’s cool hand in his own, he wonders maybe he cares a little more than Charles had in mind.


End file.
